


Miles to Go Before I Sleep

by Lintoro



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Ambiguity, Angst, Experimental Style, Flashbacks, M/M, Mental Disintegration, Mindfuck, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Sibling Incest, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 17:15:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lintoro/pseuds/Lintoro
Summary: Some ghosts are harder to exorcise than others.





	Miles to Go Before I Sleep

_"What is lost cannot be regained."_  
  
It was a simple phrase, barely even an aphorism, but all the same it was one Thor recalled his father repeating to him on those rare occasions during his childhood when The All-Father would momentarily ignore the splendors of the palace, and, finding a window, stare into the distant space with weariness which he now understood was the burden of kingship growing too cumbersome on his shoulders.  
  
" _What is lost cannot be regained."_  
  
He had come to rely on the thought, using it as a sword to cleave through the uncertainty surrounding and threatening to engulf him. It was a hammer, not unlike the one in his hand, and a single strike from it was enough to bring him back to his senses. It was also a shield: the last thing he needed now was hope, the deadly poison, circulating in his veins.  
  
He fought, of course. He would fight till they carved his heart out, and even after if he could still raise his hand. He protected his allies, old and new alike, and held his peace while hearing their plans, whether they were spoken with a glibness masking the pain beneath, or consisted mainly of gossamer-thin dreams of a better tomorrow.  
  
He got looks, sometimes. Quiet, ponderous, often concerned looks. He ignored them, as he did everything but the cause. So far, no-one had questioned his motives.  
  
Well, almost no-one.  
  
_"Why do you keep fighting?" The question was uttered in a tone lighter than air despite the obvious weight behind it._  
  
_Thor kept his eyes ahead of him. "It's the only thing keeping me sane."_  
  
_Loki didn't laugh, exactly, but her bitter mirth dripped through each syllable. "That's a bit of a lost cause, isn't it?"_

 

* * *

  
  
Hearing someone he had seen die before his eyes whisper sarcastic comments in his ear should have alarmed him more, really, but after everything he had been through since leaving Muspelheim, he doubted anything could still shake him.  
  
Besides, it felt good to be able to turn his head and see his brother frowning at whatever obstacle they were facing at the moment; hear his warnings of further assailants approaching; feel his shoulder against his as long as he didn't turn and try to see the point of contact, since at that point Loki would always fade into the background.  
  
Loki also had the tendency to hover a few feet off the ground, but as long as he stood in place, he looked no different from the illusions of himself he had been so fond of conjuring up.  
  
"Are you real?" Thor finally asked one night, the words slipping out despite his previous vow to never question this strange gift the Norns had bestowed upon him.  
  
Loki raised a single eyebrow and said nothing.  
  
Thor had already turned away, relieved there would be no real answer, when a presence stepped closer and then the gentle pressure of fingertips lingering on his upper arm.  
  
_"Could you tell the difference?"_

 

* * *

  
  
They were young, not much older than ten, when Loki dared him to walk across the Bifrost as close to the edge as he could.  
  
For a maddeningly long time, he placed one foot before the other, hands stretched to his sides, indifferent to both the lethal abyss a single misstep away and the casual taunts of his brother sauntering behind him. He came so close to victory, too, only to find his path blocked by Heimdall, who had towered above him in all his gleaming gold like a hero of legend and then all but dragged him from the precipice.  
  
"It doesn't count," said Loki when he insisted he had done all he could. "Anyone with an ounce of balance can do as much." To demonstrate, he had danced over to the bridge and teetered on the edge.  
  
Thor rushed forward before it actually happened, but it was already too late: he only just managed to snatch Loki's wrist as he went over the edge. For several long moments during which he swore his heart refused to beat he simply held on, then with a single desperate effort pulled him back up.  
  
Already as he lay Loki on the bridge he could tell something had gone wrong, inexplicably but irrecoverably wrong: Loki's skin was too pale, even for him, and he wouldn't answer when Thor called his name. A moment later he saw the blood, thick dark blood which covered his hands and kept seeping out of a deep gash in Loki's throat and into the rainbow beneath till only one color and the thick metallic scent reigned, his own cries growing distorted and distant and finally disappearing.  
  
He woke with a shock to discover himself upright in a chair in vaguely familiar surroundings. Loki sat opposite of him, looking distinctly unimpressed.  
  
Even as the silence stretched on, he only gave him a single, knowing look.

 

* * *

  
  
The first one to broach the subject was Tony Stark. Thor had thought him too embattled with his own demons to notice anything, but there it was.  
  
"How did you know he was there?"  
  
It took longer than it should have for him to understand the 'he' in question was a minion of Thanos he had felled without looking, guided by his brother's whispering voice.  
  
"Instinct," he replied, ignoring Loki's soft laughter and the growing suspicion in the living man's eyes.

 

* * *

  
  
Space again. Everything felt like space these days, stretching endlessly in all directions and penetrating the pores of his skin till his insides were filled with stars and galaxies instead of flesh and blood.  
  
Perhaps, if he kept looking at his hands, he would one day see through the blood and grime and hardened skin into the swirling cosmos within.

 

* * *

  
  
Another day, another dare. Loki egged him on till he scaled the wall and reached the roof, child's play even with one hand tied behind his back.  
  
After helping Loki up, they wandered the wasteland — _a jolt, as he remembered where he was, his hand on the shaft of his freshly forged hammer by instinct_ — the rooftops, yes, unrewarding but for the cheap thrill of sneaking where they weren't supposed to go.  
  
"My turn," he said when they finally settled down by the centre of the roof, done admiring the gilded decorations and the vast, deserted plains full of dust and death — no, just gold, gold won through warfare and brutality and on which they now sat unaware of the countless souls who had paid for their blissful childhood with blood.  
  
Loki's expression was the epitome of inscrutability. "Do your worst."  
  
"Tell me what you think of me." His brother always came up with the most creative insults, some which might be usable in pre-battle taunts.  
  
This time, however, Loki didn't dive into mocking titles. "Which would you prefer, truth or lies?"  
  
Thor frowned, then decided both answers would result in the same. "The truth, then."  
  
"The truth it is." Loki leaned closer, as if to whisper a secret directly in Thor's ear. His lips brushed against his earlobe before continuing on and not stopping till their met his lips, instead.  
  
The silence on the roof was complete, even after Loki released his mouth and pulled away. Though he hadn't moved, Thor felt as though he had ran a thousand miles without pause.  
  
"Truly?" were the first words out of his mouth, tinny and without echo.  
  
"Of course not." Loki's mouth said, twisted into a grin.  
  
_Yes, truly,_ his eyes repeated wherever their gaze followed Thor, asleep or awake.

 

* * *

  
  
The first time he realised he had been drifting and had lost track of the passage of time for nearly an hour, he felt a pang. The second time, he barely noticed.  
  
"It's not that relevant, really," he said to Loki after he had spent what felt like hours but had ultimately been a few minutes reminiscing on his early life, only belatedly noticing that they weren't alone.  
  
"As long as you have someone to point you and your hammer in the right direction," Loki chuckled heedless of the team that served as the universe's last best hope stared at Thor in unison. He likely enjoyed the attention.

 

* * *

  
  
Some years before his failed coronation, on a rare occasion he had been alone with Loki at night, they had stumbled into an unused banquet room with one final bottle to kill. They were drunk, not as drunk as he would tell himself the following day, but drunk enough nonetheless that when he made a sweeping gesture to make a point and snagged Loki's cape in the process, they had both laughed like he had told a priceless joke instead and made a game of trying to tear into each other's clothing.  
  
He never figured out when or how, but after a while their chuckles became hushed. Quick, snake-like jabs turned into slow, deliberate movements which neither of them tried to avoid, and soon Thor's hands remained on Loki's body altogether as he worked instead to undo the fastenings on them, feeling Loki's nimble fingers already at work near his own throat. It was still a game, of sorts, or it was till the last garments were discarded and he saw his brother clad in nothing but starlight, his flesh so different and alluring in the night, and so yielding to touch when he reached to caress it.  
  
It wasn't long till he was pushed backwards and Loki straddled his hips, and only the knowledge that it might break the spell kept him from laughing at how easy it was to lie back and trust, at least for a moment, till his body became a single nerve, each touch reverberating through every inch of it in spasms so hot they ultimately wrapped around and became shivers, till his very essence quaked and he had no choice but to reach out for more, casting aside everything but the body draped against his and the mounting pleasure that was like witnessing the sun for the very first time.  
  
"You are dead," he said to break the stillness as they lay next to each another, waiting to catch their breaths.  
  
Loki took the comment in stride. "I wasn't back then."  
  
"No, you were not." He couldn't help reaching out and touching Loki's shoulder. His fingers went straight through.  
  
Loki looked down at where the foreign digits sank into his flesh as though it was nothing more than a minor curiosity. "There is always a chance, you know. This is not the first time you thought me—"  
  
"Don't." He spoke the word softly, but it still echoed in the empty room. He settled his head back on the dais.  
  
They lay there for several lifetimes longer till Thor finally broke the silence. He should have known better. He did know better. And yet he asked. "Did this actually happen?"  
  
Loki's laughter was answer enough.

 

* * *

  
"This is not the end," one of his allies had said. All their voices had begun to sound alike. Their faces, too, even Rocket Raccoon's, had blended together and become one, a single entity with a dozen faces and matching frowns on each whenever he spoke.

Steve? He wanted to say Steve.  
  
"This is not the end," the voice repeated when he tried to assign a face to it, managing a phantasm less substantial than the spectres of the Aesir which now followed after him wherever he went. "It won't be till every last one of us gives up."  
  
Thor nodded, suddenly serene. Yes. He would never give up. Not till the bitter end.

 

* * *

  
  
"And then what?"  
  
Thor forced his eyes back shut as soon as he had opened them. "No."  
  
"That is not an answer." He didn't have to see Loki to know he was sitting on a rock next to his makeshift bed, calm and poised.  
  
"We are not discussing it." He meant to turn away, but instead he turned towards his brother. He hadn't caught so much as a wink of sleep anyway.  
  
Loki averted his eyes. "I didn't think you were afraid of anything."  
  
"I used to be. There is nothing left to be afraid of."  
  
"Hmm." There was a faint sound, like silk being shifted aside, and just like that, Loki was lying next to him on the ground, hands crossed on his chest, staring upwards at the hollow sky. "You may have learned to tell some lies, brother, but that was a feeble effort."  
  
Perhaps it was the lack of light, but from this close up Loki looked so real, from each individual strand of hair to the lines under his eyes, that Thor was nearly fooled all over again. "I am afraid of dying before exacting my revenge."  
  
Loki smiled. "Now you're speaking my tongue."  
  
It was the first time Thor had admitted as much to himself, a realisation that even now gave him pause, shaking him so badly he only belatedly realised that Loki had reached out and was now stroking his face, the touch cool and gentle and startlingly lifelike.  
  
Comforting though it was, he placed his own hand over Loki's to dispel the illusion. Only, it didn't. Loki's fingers remained trapped and entirely solid between his hand and cheek.  
  
After a moment of deliberation, he leaned into the touch. "I have lost myself, then?"  
  
"If you have, then what of it?" Hearing those words moving from Loki's mouth should have been ominous, but the tone was more ponderous than anything. "After all, what is lost cannot be regained."  
  
The words kept echoing in Thor's mind even as he took hold of Loki's waist and pulled him flush against himself, feeling his breath against his cheek, the bird-like pulse underneath his cool skin, the bliss as their bodies joined as one and seemed to melt into one another like so many stars.


End file.
